


No need to worry, now

by trialbyfic



Series: they are siblings (and they care for each other) [8]
Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Autistic Nastya, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jonny and Nastya are siblings, Panic Attacks, Protective Siblings, Rain, Sensory Overload, Sibling Bonding, i like to write natsya being softly held. so sue me, it's difficult it's unnatural and i Will do it no matter what it takes, trying to write the mechs as being soft is like forcing the opposite ends of two magnets together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialbyfic/pseuds/trialbyfic
Summary: Nearly every corner is packed with people, and the loud din of clinkling glasses, raucous conversation, and barking laughter makes it nearly impossible for Nastya to hear what Jonny says, even as he stands right beside her."What did you say, Jonny?" Nastya nearly has to shout."I said," Jonny leans closer to Nastya's ear, "This'll be a good fight."---Jonny wants to get in a bar fight. Nastya does not want to get in a bar fight.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville & Nastya Rasputina
Series: they are siblings (and they care for each other) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926106
Comments: 12
Kudos: 89





	No need to worry, now

**Author's Note:**

> *chanting* autistic nastya, autistic nastya, autistic nastya
> 
> so, this is sort of a companion piece to my work [A slumber sweet and sound,](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/26112682) mainly because... well! you'll see! i hope you enjoy!
> 
> cw's are: a description of a panic attack that Might be kinda graphic? as in like, fleshy graphic, bc Analogies. is that the right word? i dunno, but if i've missed any warnings/tags, please let me know!
> 
> title is from "Lotus Eaters" by Jessica Law! honestly at this point i'll end up having a fic for each lyric of that song. it just has so many good lines, you know?

The interior of the bar that Nastya and Jonny stand in is filled with the warm orange and brown hues of polished wooden walls and dark mahogany-esque tables, illuminated by yellow lights that hang suspended from the ceiling and reflect sharply on the shiny walls and windows.

Nearly every corner is packed with people, and the loud din of clinkling glasses, raucous conversation, and barking laughter makes it nearly impossible for Nastya to hear what Jonny says, even as he stands right beside her.

"What did you say, Jonny?" Nastya nearly has to shout.

"I said," Jonny leans closer to Nastya's ear, "This'll be a good fight."

At Jonny's insistence, he and Nastya had gone planetside onto a small yet crowded town, and quickly located the most popular bar, with the intent to start a bar fight. Nastya cringes, already regretting her decision to join him. The bar seems chaotic enough, even though mostly everyone is simply sitting down and drinking, and she dreads to imagine what it'll be like with people up and battling.

Jonny nods to a vacant table tucked into a corner of the bar, and Nastya is immediately filled with conflicting feelings- relief about its relative distance away from the other people-filled tables, yet dismay for how cramped the space appears to be.

The table is round, with a small surface that definitely wouldn't be able to handle more than two drinks sitting atop it at one time. The wall is too close to the edge, and the two chairs can't be pulled out far enough for them to sit comfortably.

Jonny ends up pressed against the edge of the table, with his back facing the majority of the room, and his forearms taking up the entirety of the tabletop as they rest on it. Nastya has her left arm wrapped around to hold her right arm to her chest, as their location against the wall presents no room for it to hang at her side.

Jonny flags a waiter down and tosses some gold onto the table (stolen from an unfortunate passerby on their way here), and orders something with a complicated and unfamiliar sounding name. By the look on the waiter's face, Nastya guesses that it's a strong drink- possibly the strongest the bar has to offer.

"Nastya?" Jonny says, turning away from the waiter to face her. "What do you want?"

Nastya shakes her head 'no'. The only thing that could make this place worse, she thinks, is experiencing it while being inebriated.

"Aw, come on, you have to want something. Gin? Vodka?"

Nastya shakes her head again and presses the fist of her right hand over her lips, shifting her knuckles against the sensitive skin. It's a nice sensation, as well as her way to convey that she's made her final decision.

"Alright, suit yourself. That'll be all, then," He says, shooing the waiter off.

Though the room is already stifling, Nastya pulls her coat tighter around herself, tugging the folded sleeves undone to fall down over her hands. The coat is soft and familiar around her, and she relaxes just the smallest bit.

The bar quiets down for a moment, and Nastya realizes that there's been music playing this entire time, hidden under the volume of the chatter. Searching for the source of it, Nastya looks up and spots a worn-looking speaker suspended on the wall above her, emiting a tinny and static-broken song.

Jonny follows her gaze to the speaker, and when when she looks back at him, he's smiling, wide and mischievous.

"I think we played here, once," He says, voice lilting in a fond and reminiscent way. "You were M.I.A. at the time, so you won't remember. Think they'll let us perform again, after this?" He chuckles, pleased at his little quip.

Nastya shrugs. The waiter comes back with Jonny's drink then, a dark and red-tinged concoction in a tall glass mug, and Nastya watches in mixed amusement and disgust as he downs a third of it in one go.

Jonny's face twists into a grimace, and he sets sets the glass down heavily. "Gross. Hate it."

Nastya laughs lightly, though it's really more of a punctuated exhale through her nose, and the edge of her mouth quirks in a small grin.

Jonny sneers at her. "Think my misery is funny, do you?"

"I do."

"I- Well- Okay, that's fair," Jonny relents, bringing the mug up for another gulp, and looking even more disgusted than the first time.

Nastya startles as a sudden, rapid series of thumps and taps sound from all across the roof of the bar, starting light and sparse but quickly gaining momentum and volume. Much to Nastya's displeasure, it only adds to the noise of the room, amplified by the thin wood that the building is made of.

"Oh. Rain." Jonny says simply. "That'll really set the mood for the fight. Speaking of which..." He cranes his head around to survey the rest of bar. "We need find someone to pick it with. Someone already drunk off of their ass, preferably."

Jonny seems to be in his element with this, his eyes squinted and scanning the various patrons, and his fingers drumming on the table in what Nastya recognizes as a byproduct of his anticipation.

She thinks of plants, then- of flora kept in just the right patch of sunlight, given the precise amount of water, the proper type of pot, and subsequently blooming into its full potential. That's Jonny- in this bar, in a fight.

And she thinks of transplant shock- of a plant ripped from its familiar dirt to be buried in a different area, lacking the roots to ground it, and consequently withering, drying out, and dying.

That's her, in this bar. That'll be her, if they go through with this fight. The sound of the room presses in on her, causing panic to coil in her lungs and her limbs, writhing and stinging without mercy. Barbed and sharp, it snakes around her body and scrapes beneath her skin, threatening to turn her into a scattered and broken mess.

Nastya has two choices, now. She can stay here, and let it shred her into jagged and bleeding pieces, or she can leave, and try to salvage what togetherness she has left.

So, Nastya makes her decision. As Jonny is distracted, she silently slides out from her seat and ducks away, manuevering past tables and legs with a grace only lended to her by the adrenaline currently pounding harsh and fierce through her veins.

Nastya had wanted to believe it would be better outside of the bar, wanted to believe that the fresh air and lack of walls would be a cause for relief to crash over her, but it's only gotten worse. Despite it being the middle of the night, the sidewalk in front of the bar is crowded and shifting with people darting walking to and fro, and the porch underneath the roof's overhang is quickly becoming a shelter from the rain for several passerby.

The feeling beneath her skin twists and boils with more ferocity at the sight, so as soon as there's a clearing on the steps leading to the porch, she takes off onto the sidewalk, skirting the edge in a futile attempt at dodging the majority of people.

There will be less of them in rainier places, Nastya reasons, so she pushes against the flow of the crowd toward the buildings with no overhang, and the streets with no trees. She's incredibly lost this point, but it doesn't matter, as her only goal is to get away- from people, from places, from noise.

Some distant part of Nastya's mind begins to chastise her for this- for running away like a scared child, for not even being able to handle a simple sit-down at a bar before breaking- but Nastya instantly shuts that part down. Really, anyone with the tiniest bit of self-preservation would have taken out of there, just as she did. (Which she supposes is why Jonny, who's self-preservation is in the far negatives, liked it there.)

Nastya eventually finds an alley between two brick buildings, dark and empty except for some odd bits of garbage. Though the rain falls freely here, she immediately steps inside and presses her back to one of the walls, crossing her arms over her chest and resigning herself to staying until...

Until what? She's not familiar with this town at all, and now she's lost Jonny as her guide. Her water-logged coat hangs heavy and uncomfortable on her frame, she can hardly see past her rain-spotted glasses, and her teeth chatter with enough force to be painful. The panic must have torn apart the last fragments her reasoning on the way here, as she has no idea what to do now.

Nastya doesn't know how long she stands in that alley, holding herself and shivering violently, but it's long enough to watch the sickly yellow of dawn begin to break through the thick layer dark grey rainclouds in small patches. The rain starts to let up slightly, a tiny glipse of hope, before the sky re-darkens, and it returns to its normal downpour.

Suddenly, Nastya becomes aware of a figure standing in her periphery at the entrance of the alley. She instictively steps away from the wall and snatches her gun from her holster, bracing it in both of her trembling hands and aiming it at the figure. She doubts that she'll get an accurate shot on the first few tries, but she has determination, and she has ammo.

"Nastya?" Says the figure, and they approach slowly, their hands held up placatingly. "Why the fuck did you take off like that? And why did you go so far?"

It takes Nastya a moment to register the voice, to connect it to an image and a person in her mind, but she eventually does, and she lowers the gun, fumbling as she places it back in her holster.

Jonny puts his hands down and comes closer. Nastya can't quite see him through her glasses, but she does notice the faded impression of his cracked eyeliner, washed into contorted and twisted lines that run down to his jaw by the rain.

"Nastya, I can see you shivering from here. Let's go back to the bar, alright? It's warmer there."

Nastya's panic begins to rise again at the mention of returning, so she pointedly steps back to her place against the wall, crossing her arms in an exaggerated motion.

"That's a no, I take it." Jonny places his hands on his hips, and looks up at her in confusion. "So, what is it that you want?"

Nastya tries to force herself to speak, but no words come out. Jonny contunues to stand there, staring at her, and the expectation to reply makes her freeze even further.

She can't move, and she can hardly think. Her mind is in overdrive, spinning and whirlpooling with such intensity that anything besides "cold-scared-can't" is blurred out, rendering most attempts at communication useless.

Except, something does break through the whirled hazed, as Nastya distantly draws a comparison between her current situation and centrifugal force- an object's own inertia leaving it pinned and plastered in place as the container it resides in spins and spins in fast and endless circles.

That's how the O'Neill ring operates, Nastya remembers. It generates artificial gravity in the crew's nine living pods by spinning at a constant velocity of 22.369 miles per hour, situated around the Aurora's hull-

Aurora. Aurora.

She needs the Aurora.

She needs to go home.

And once she's latched onto those words, it's all she can repeat.

"I need to go home," Nastya says, quiet at first, but the words that flow afterwards get stronger and stronger. "I need to go home, I need to go home, I need to go HOME-"

"Hey, hey!" Jonny interrupts, his words soft in what seems like an attempt to soothe. "Quiet down for a second, okay?"

Nastya obliges, though she doesn't stop her chant, only lowering it to a vague muttering under her breathe.

"What do you mean, 'home'?" Jonny asks, frowning uncertainly.

Nastya unfolds her arms to gesture vaguely at the sky. "Home," She repeats, putting as much emphasis on the word as she can.

Jonny's frown increases, but then his face relaxes and his eyebrows raise, and he nods in apparent realization. "Ah. Home." He starts searching his pockets, but then he pauses, and looks back up at Nastya, who still stands shivering and cold against the wet brick wall.

Jonny considers her for a moment, then steps closer, and raises his arms in an offer for an embrace. "Want to come here? You look like you're about to shake yourself apart."

Nastya doesn't do anything, so Jonny continues. "I mean, I'm soaked too- probably hardly any warmer than you- but... oh, fuck it. It's not like I've never huddled for warmth before. Earth's moon is a pretty cold place, you know." Jonny tilts his head and looks to the side. "Well, was a cold place."

At that, Nastya finds herself taking a small and trembling step forward, which signals for Jonny to cross the rest of the way and take her into his waiting arms.

Though Jonny is also freezing and drenched in rain, he's still significantly warmer than Nastya, and the contact seems to put the coldness of her own body into true perspective- her breathing kicks into quaking gasps, reminiscent of a cold shock response, and her skin aches and begs for more warmth.

Jonny holds her tightly, and Nastya does her best to return it, but her limbs are weak and sore from her constant shaking, so she doesn't manage more than a loose wrap around his upper back.

Nastya feels Jonny shift in her arms as he continues searching his pockets, until he finally pulls out his comlink to the Aurora. He immediately radios the ship, holding the comlink to his mouth with one hand and tucking his head beneath Nastya's chin, compensating for the lack of a both-armed embrace.

"Jonny?" It's Brian's voice that answers. "You've been gone for longer than your estimated time. Is the hauler malfunctioning?"

"We're not using the hauler. I need you to bring Aurora in, as close as you can get to us, ASAP."

"Oh- Is something wrong? Is-" Brian pauses for a moment, then, "Is that Nastya's breathing?" He asks, worry and confusion in his tone.

"Look, we just- Nastya needs to get back to the Aurora. You have your orders." Jonny cuts off the connection and slides the comlink into one of his pockets, then puts his arm back to holding Nastya.

There's silence for a moment, save for the constant patter of rain onto cement, as they simply hold each other. At some point, Nastya realizes that Jonny has begun to softly rock them both from side to side- whether that's purposeful, or whether it's just an idle motion, she doesn't know.

"Why'd you take off from the bar?" Jonny asks eventually. "And why didn't you tell me? I had to look all over for you. Wasn't fun at all."

"I need to go home," is all Nastya can still reply.

"Hm. You can't say anything else?"

"I'm- I- Mm."

Jonny hums in thought. "Alright, I've got an idea." He clears his throat, then starts singing, low and smooth. "A broken man lies in the rust, that's stained his whole life through... The blood that pools beneath him, doesn't change the metal's hue..."

Jonny does the next few lines alone, until Nastya automatically sings the accompanying "You're the Once and Future King" alongside him, broken and off-tune though it is.

"There we go," Jonny says, and Nastya can hear the smile in his voice. When he starts up the song again, he's skipped to the part where the lyrics overlap, and Nastya joins him.

"A kiss upon the forehead binds at last his son's goodbye-"

"We could have saved them all, yet you could not see,"

"Just one more shot will send him out into the endless sky-"

"Now you'll always be, the Once and Future King,"

They carry on like that until Jonny's comlink beeps, and Brian informs them that the Aurora has landed in a nearby field, east of their current location. As soon as the connection is cut, Jonny guides Nastya out of the alley and toward the sunrise- toward the Aurora.

***

Nastya holds Jonny's hand as she drags him behind her through the Aurora's halls, not stopping even as he complains.

"Nastya, what- where are we- why-"

"Stop your muttering and hurry up. You walk too slowly."

"That's not fair! You have an advantage with your fucking- fucking arachnid legs- much goddamn longer than mine-"

"Well, it's not my fault that I'm 6'1."

"And it's not MY fault that I'm 5'5, so slow down!"

"5'5? You said you were 5'6, the same height as Marius, last time I asked."

"Shit."

Nastya chuckles. "Just be quiet and come on."

She eventually brings him to a large vent outside one of Aurora's furnace rooms, which is emanating a nearly scorching amount of heat. Nastya settles herself onto the ground as close as she can get to it, tugging Jonny to sit down beside her.

"Why?" Jonny asks again, almost in a pout.

"We're both freezing. We could use the heat."

"Didn't you just say that you found my misery funny, yesterday?"

"Yes, but this isn't fun for either of us."

Jonny hunches his shoulders and stretches his hands toward the vent. "Hmph. I suppose."

Nastya takes off her coat, laying it before the vent to dry off, then removes her glasses and sets them some way behind her, for fear of the heat warping the frame. She closes her eyes contentedly and curls closer to the vent.

"So, are you going to tell me why you left the bar, now?" Jonny asks.

Nastya shrugs. "It was noisy and crowded. I didn't like it."

"Oh. Well- Just say that next time. It'll save us both a lot of trouble."

"Fine, I'll- wait, next time?"

"Yup. I'm not letting you off that easy. We'll get you in a good fight, one day. Maybe... we'll do a heist sometime, and you can work in the background."

Nastya grins. "You mean, as in disabling security systems?"

"Exactly."

"That... might actually be fun."

They fall into companionable silence after that, as they bask in the Aurora's heat. Nastya stays there until the water droplets on her skin have dried away, and her arms begin to flush silver from the heat. Jonny has to leave much sooner, having a naturally warmer body temperature than her.

The Aurora hums and rattles vibrantly around Nastya, a steady reassurance that's she's home- that she's safe- and Nastya finally relaxes.

**Author's Note:**

> if i was more knowledgable, i'd totally write a mechs casino heist. but, as it is, i do not know a single thing about casinos. or heists. so i must unfortunately leave you unfulfilled
> 
> anyway, i'm on tumblr at [orangezinnia!](https://orangezinnia.tumblr.com) ask me there about my jonny and nastya sibling dynamic headcanons. i dare you. (i request politely).
> 
> also i adore and cherish each comment and they're always welcome <3


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